You Gotta Have Some Hope
by Rebekah Rivkah Granger
Summary: Chapter 2 Up ! Hope Jacobs is a Brooklyn NewsGirl, and the only one who hates Spot Conlon, but what happens when she is called to his aid. Will her thoughts on him change?
1. Who Said I Needed You?

Ok, first off, I chose not to write in the following style… "Hey I'se hoid youse was comin' down to the harbor." For the reason that it annoys me occasionally. Second, if you like this please review… I thrive off of reviews. And finally, I really hope that you like this.

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"Goddamn stiffs! How am I supposed to sell a bloody pape, when no one wants to read them?" Hope Jacobs cried, throwing her large pile of newspapers to the dusty sidewalk angrily. She flung herself down next to them and buried her head in her hands. Why had she even come to New York, Oh, right, her family was gone and she had had no place else to go! 5 years ago and 11 year old Hope had returned home late from school to find her house burnt to cinders… The firemen said her parents and sisters had been napping, they probably didn't feel anything. Hope had stayed for a month with neighbors in her small Massachusetts town. But after that she simply had to get out.

                  She had traveled from her hometown to Boston, to Maine, to Vermont, to Buffalo, to Albany, and finally to Brooklyn, choosing to settle in the Newsgirls Lodging House. There she had been fed, bathed, and clothed. Mrs. Winthrop, the mistress of the house, had been very kind, allowing her time to adjust to "the job"/ Hope was surprised when she saw how the newsboys were treated. They had no hot water, and they had to buy their own food. The boys were pitifully thin, and their faces and hands were caked with dirt.

                  And of all the newsboys, Hope truly disliked only one… Spot Conlon. Spot was a womanizer, a drunk, a gambler, a cheat and a liar. The womanizing was what really bothered Hope the most. Every time she saw him he was with a different girl, and while he was with her, he was flirting with another. He was good looking of course, as all of his type were. The newsgirls all sighed over his name, and he was all that Hope's best friend Kit ever talked about. 

                  Personally Hope thought that although Spot was undeniably the best looking of all the newsies, the Manhattan newsies were the most "datable". The latest boy who showed interest in her was a Manhattan named Racetrack Higgins. Race gambled often, hence his name, but he never drank or at least he never drank _that_ much, and he never took the "want, get, leave" approach that Spot was infamous for. But Hope didn't feel that she really wanted to move from her friendship with Race into a relationship.

                  "Ugh! Just when I thought my day couldn't get any worse!" Hope muttered, as she saw Spot and his latest "broad" turn the corner and walk down the street. Spot saw Hope and smiled winningly at her. Hope turned away, hoping that if she could only ignore him, he would pass her by without a word. But, _no,_ not like _that_ would ever happen.

                  "Hey there, Hope. You need some help selling them papes?" Spot asked her teasingly.

                  "Oh… go eat your hat Spot! I can sell them myself." Hope hissed, standing up. She was the same height as Spot, and she was able to glare directly into his eyes.

                  "I'm only offering you my excellent services." Spot replied smugly, not backing down.

                  "Well, your _excellent _services are not , nor have they ever been required by me. I'd rather eat the papers I don't sell than let you sell them for me." Hope spat, her fist balling hin anger. Spot threw up his hands and backed away.

                  "Fine, have it your way! If you don't want to eat, don't." Spot's voice was loud enough to turn heads. See this Hope got an idea. She threw her head into her hands and began to heave with sobs.

                  "Br-Bro-Bro-Brother! Why are you doing this to me. Why would you desert me for you lover. I can-can't possibly care for my-s-self. I sell these papers to buy my share of the food, and now when business is bad and no one buys you leave me out in the cold to starve!" Hope choked out.

                  Spot looked at her in confusion, and began to back away, dragging his girl with him. Hope saw him go and let out a heart-wrenching scream. Suddenly Spot noticed that a large crowd had gathered around Hope, comforting her and … buying papes…lots of papes. Some of them even buying two or three.  The girl had style, Spot had to give her that, even he would have never thought of using that one… not in a million years.


	2. Stay Here With Me?

Hey, Thanks a ton to my wonderful 10 reviewers… I'm glad you liked it… sorry it took so long to get this chapter out but finally here it is.

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Hope threw herself down on her bed with a sigh. TEN DOLLARS! She couldn't remember ever earning this much in one day in her whole life. She sat up; placing the fresh bill the man at the bank had given her in exchange for her coins, on the bed. She reached up and untied her hair, deftly unbraiding it and massaging her sore scalp. Her raven hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders and she combed it with her fingers. She opened her drawer and pulled out her nightshift. She took off her light cotton skirt and blouse, carefully folding them and placing them in the drawer; next she unbuttoned her camisole and slipped it off her arms, modestly pulling the shift on before removing it.

Hope looked around her, and when she saw that all the girls were asleep, she reached around her neck and took off a thin gold chain with a key hanging on it. She gripped it in her fist and knelt on the floor by the bed. She wriggled under the bed and stretched out her arm until her fingers felt a loose board, which she pulled back. She emerged from under the bed with a heavy iron cashbox in tow. She hefted it on the bed and used the key to unlock it. Inside was a large sum of money, about $1,500 dollars to be exact. Some of it was left to her in her parents will, but most of it was the fruit of her five years of hard labor in city after city. She placed her day's salary in the box, locked it again, and replaced it under the bed. She reclasped the chain around her neck, and slipped under her covers after blowing out her candle, throwing the room into inky darkness.

@--}—

Tap-Tap-Tap Hope moaned and rubbed her eyes. Was it day already? She opened her eyes. 'Wait a second, it's still dark. What time is it?' In answer to her unspoken question the church bells rang out 3:00 am. "UGH!" Hope cried, before rolling back over. Tap-Tap-Tap 

"Oh for God's sake!" Hope said, throwing the blankets off her legs and placing her feet on the cold floor. She winced and hopped up and down to warm herself. She half walked half hopped over to the window and opened… and a pebble hit her square in the forehead. 

"OW! JESUS!" She hissed, peering at the street below angrily.

"Oops! Uh, sorry."

"Race? What are you _doing_ her?" Hope called down to the shadowy figure below.

"Mush got in a fight… We can't stop the bleeding. You got to come and help." Race answered desperately. 

"What? My God! Hold on, I'll be right down." Hope disappeared into the window. She hopped into her clothes and crabbed her cash box, from which she removed five dollars before returning the box. She took a canvas bag from her drawer. She ran to the washroom and opened up Mrs. Winthrop's medicine cabinet. She removed a bottle of whiskey, for cleansing the wound, two rolls of linen bandages, and a needle and thread, she tossed them into her bag, and ran back to the window. She crept out and closed it behind her silently

"Here, toss me your bag." Race called up to her, holding out his arms to catch it. Hope threw it over the railing of the fire escape. Then she climbed over the railing herself, and climbed down so that she held the edge of the platform. Race placed his hands on her waist and helped her down. He handed her the bag and they began to walk.

It took Hope a few minutes before she realized that they weren't headed for Manhattan. She knitted her brow and glared suspiciously at Racetrack.

"Racetrack Higgins, just where do you think you're taking me??" She demanded. Standing angrily on the sidewalk. Race turned and looked at her sheepishly. She glared at him harder.

"Listen, I'm sorry I had to lie to you. It's Spot. He's the one that's hurt. They sent someone down to Manhattan, but Kloppman's away. You were the only one who could help. I knew you'd never come if you knew it was Spot. So,… I lied. Please Hope. We need your help."

Hope sighed at the 'puppy dog face' Race was giving her, and walked on. She couldn't just let Spot die… even though she wanted to at times. "Damn my morals" She hissed to herself, but she continued to walk. Race slipped his hand into hers and smiled weakly.

@--}---

"RACE! Took you long enough to get here! Where were you?" Jake, a Brooklyn Newsie hissed, stepping up to Race confrontationally.

"Hey, listen. We don't have time to argue. Where is he?" Hope said, shoving her way between the two boys. Jake narrowed his eyes and pointed to a door with a large crowd of boys around it. Hope shook her head. "I should've guessed. All right, ALL RIGHT! MOVE IT OR LOSE IT BABY! I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS SO LET'S GO!" She yelled, shoving her way through the mob to the door. She pulled it open and slipped inside, shutting and locking it behind her.

Spot was lying on his bed, biting back cries of pain. He had what seemed to have been a white sheet, now stained a dark crimson, wrapped around his middle. His face was ghastly pale and his skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Hope rushed over to him.

"Spot! My God! What happened?" Hope gasped, working to remove the sheet while causing him as little pain as possible.

"Hope? What are you doing here?" Spot whispered back, struggling to sit up.

"I'm here to help… sit still…now tell me what happened." Hope said, unbuttoning Spot's shirt deftly.

"Harlem…" He broke into a coughing fit and had to wait a moment before continuing. "Harlem was planning to hurt one of the girls. I overheard them and decided to take them. They pulled a knife… but, I got them. Your girls can sleep safe tonight." He went into another spasm of coughing and Hope held a hand on his chest, as though the contact would ease his pain.

When he lay still Hope finally gathered her courage and looked down at Spot's wound. It wasn't as bad as she had expected from all the blood. It would still need stitches though.

She reached into her bag patiently, and removed the whiskey. She uncapped it and handed it to Spot. He stared at it dumbly and she finally had to pour the fiery liquor down his throat herself. He winced as the drink burned its way down to his stomach.

This may hurt a bit. I'm just warning so try and relax." Hope warned. Spot unexpectedly took her hand and laced his fingers with hers.

Hope braced herself and poured a quarter of the remaining whiskey onto his wound. Spot arched in pain, biting his lip until it bled to keep from screaming. Hope squeezed his hand and looked at him sympathetically. When he calmed, she threaded the needle. She poured some more of the whiskey on it for sterilization. Spot saw the needle and looked away, closing his eyes tightly. Hope bit her lip and stroked his hand. She took the needle and began to stitch, going as quickly as possible to save him as much pain as she could. Twenty stitches to close it, an extra ten to be safe. When she was done, she took the bandages and laid them out. She lifted Spot's back so she could wrap the linen completely around his middle. She stitched the bandage closed and pulled the sheets and blankets up to his chin. She went to untwine her fingers from his but his other hand went around her wrist.

"Stay with me?" He asked her. Hope noted how childlike his voice sounded, hardly like the usual leader. She sighed and nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed. Spot pushed himself over, giving her more room. She went to sit back a bit more, but he pulled her down so she lay next to him. He put his arm around her possessively and she couldn't struggle to get free for fear of hurting him.

She sighed and lay still, letting him pull her body closer. He had gone through a lot, he deserved this at least. He buried his face in her hair. She gently stroked his hand and sighed contentedly. She rolled over so she faced him. She let her hand touch is face gently, letting her fingers trace the contours of his skin. One of his legs draped over hers, and she cuddled against him, burying her face in his shoulder.

"Thank you… I know it must have killed you to help me." Spot said quietly, touching her cheek softly.

"I'm glad I helped. I feel… closer to you now. But I have just one question. Who was the newsgirl Harlem was after?" Spot looked at her, staring deep into her eyes.

"You." With that he pressed his lips to hers in a fevered kiss.

**********

"Hope, wait for me." Spot's voice called across the street. Hope paused in the act of kissing Race lightly on the cheek.

"Oh, hey. How's the battle wound?" She teased, as Race put his arm around her.

"Fine. Umm, can I talk to you… privately?"

"Sure. Do you mind Race?" The two stepped away and Spot touched her wrist lightly.

" Did you want to go to lunch with me today… my treat. As a thank you."

"Oh, Spot, I'm really sorry. I already promised Race. Maybe another time?"

"Oh, yeah sure… another time. But Hope, what about…?"

"What Spot? Nothing happened… if your getting at what I think your getting at. We kissed. You were sick… you needed me. It wasn't anything. I have to go."

She ran over to Race and put her arm over his shoulder. They began to walk down the street and Race began talking animatedly but Hope was distracted by the lone figure on the sidewalk, dragging a toe in the dirt, his eyes contorted with jealousy and hurt.

"Hope? Are you listening? I asked what Spot asked you." Race's voice cut into her thoughts.

"Oh, nothing. Let's just go. Ok?"


	3. Make It Go Away

"So, you're saying that Spot Conlon. the Spot Conlon, asked you to lunch and you turned him down? Are you crazy?" Kit screeched, as she brushed out Hope's hair.  
  
"Yes. I'm absolutely insane." Hope snorted, passing a ribbon back to Kit.  
  
"Well, I'm just saying. Oh come on Hope. You know deep down inside you like him."  
  
"You mean way, way, way down deep?" Hope asked, her eyes serious.  
  
"Yes, exactly."  
  
"Oh, well in that case. nope. Still don't like him. I like Race. He likes me back and well. I don't want to mess that up, Kit. You know that. If you like Spot so much why don't you just ask him out?"  
  
"Me? Oh no. I couldn't. I mean I'm in a relationship too." Kit blushed, tying off the braid she had made in Hope's hair.  
  
"Exactly my point. I somehow don't imagine Blink being very happy with you, if you started going with Spot. Now do you see where I'm coming from?"  
  
"Yeah. but I mean. you and Race aren't really a couple. You even told me you weren't sure if you wanted to move past friendship. that was before this whole thing with Spot and now you're obsessed with having a relationship with Racetrack. I think you're fooling yourself."  
  
"Well, fooling myself or not, if we don't go now we'll be too late to get our spots. no pun intended."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let's go."  
  
The two walked ran down the stair and out of the boarding house to the street, their skirts swirling around their ankles. They turned right at the street corner, heading for the distribution office. The distribution office was run by Mr. Jenkins, an old man from New Jersey. The girls both loved him like a father.  
  
"Well, hello girls! The regular?" Mr. Jenkins smiled as the girls approached the counter. "Yep. the regular. How are you Mr. Jenkins?" Hope grinned, leaning against the bars that separated her and the old man.  
  
"As good as an old man can be." He smiled back, taking the coin she handed him and sliding her papers under the bars. "You have a good day now girls."  
  
"You too Mr. Jenkins." Kit said, as she handed over her money and shouldered her papes.  
  
"Hey, Hope!" Kit yelled after her friend, who had already started walking away. "You selling by the factories today?" Hope stopped and waited for her to catch up before shaking her head.  
  
"Race and I are selling together today. I'm taking the cable down to Manhattan."  
  
"You're selling together? How will you manage to make any money?" Kit asked, trying her best to keep up with Hopes quick pace.  
  
"We take turns selling, first he sells a pape and the next customer is mine. It's very simple."  
  
"Oh, well, do you want me to wait with you?" Kit asked as they reached the car stop. Hope was about to reply when the cable car bell interrupted her thoughts.  
  
"I guess you won't have to. I'll see you tonight."  
  
"Give Blink a kiss for me would you?" Kit joked. Hope made a face as she jumped on to the moving car. They both laughed and Hope waved before finding a seat. She had only been on the car a few minutes when a person moved into the seat next to hers.  
  
"Hey there Hope." A familiar voice whispered in her ear.  
  
"Oh God! Conlon go away." Hope hissed, refusing to look over at Spot, afraid he'd see the blush of her cheeks.  
  
"Hey, this is public transportation. I can ride if I want and I can sit where I want. It's a free country."  
  
"I'm sure it is. I think I feel like walking to Manhattan." Hope said angrily, starting to stand. Spot grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down. "Let me go." She growled, trying vainly to pull her hand away. She looked out of the car. two more stops only two more stops.  
  
"No. Tell me what I did! God damn it! Hope you tell me what I did to make you hate me."  
  
"You really want to know?" She hissed, her eyes narrowing to slits. "Well, I'll tell you. everything and nothing. All in all. the fact that you exist gives the planet a bad name." One more stop.  
  
"What is that supposed to mean Hope?"  
  
"The way you act, the way you treat people. the way you treat women."  
  
"Oh, so just because I've gone with a lot of girls means that I can't be serious."  
  
"No. but it's a damn good indicator." A moment of silence. "Oop. here's my stop. You'd better let me go before every Newsie in Manhattan decides to make you let me go." Hope felt his hand loosen and she tore her wrist away. She hurried to the edge of the car and jumped off, careful not to look back.  
  
"Hey Hope." Race called, breaking away from a circle of News Boys. He threw his cigar on the ground, knowing how much Hope hated him smoking around her. He saw her face, twisted up as she fought tears. "What is it?" He asked, his eyes worried. He hurried to her side and wrapped his arms around her. She had begun to sob, her arms wrapping tightly about his neck. "What is it, Hope? Tell me what's wrong."  
  
"Make him leave me alone."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Him. Make him leave me alone."  
  
Race stared helplessly at the boys who had surrounded them. No one knew what she was talking about and she refused to say out right. Finally she sniffled and wiped her eyes.  
  
"Sorry. I just. it isn't important. Let's go." She took Race's hand and started to drag him away before he or anyone else could ask any more questions. 


End file.
